3,99 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Robin Merrill
- Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
- Sprache: Englisch
A disgraced spouse. A devastated daughter. Can one woman’s faith in the Almighty’s plan right a string of wrongs?
Tonya Mendell has really tried her best. Desperate to be a model pastor’s wife and mother, she’s shocked when her thirteen-year-old daughter pranks the reclusive woman next door. And when Tonya discovers her husband is having an affair, her heart sinks when her only child flees the house in response.
Knowing the scandal could rock the town and cost her husband his job, the faithful woman clings to the remnants of her tattered marriage. But seeing her relationship with her daughter and her own dignity at stake, Tonya’s only hope is to put her trust in God to make things right.
Can this tortured soul follow the path the Lord intends and discover the healing she needs?
Knocking is the heartfelt first book in the New Beginnings Christian Fiction series. If you like relatable women, strong believers, and tales of redemption, then you’ll love Robin Merrill’s uplifting story.
Buy Knocking to see Christ’s guidance today!
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
Ähnliche
Knocking
New Beginnings Book 1
––––––––
ROBIN MERRILL
New Creation Publishing
Madison, Maine
––––––––
KNOCKING. Copyright © 2020 by Robin Merrill. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
––––––––
Scripture quotations taken from American Standard Version (ASV).
––––––––
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Epilogue
Books by Robin Merrill
Behold, I stand at the door and knock: if any man hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me. —Revelation 3:20
Chapter 1
Esther
It felt like a kick to the stomach. Esther stopped breathing. She must have heard wrong. She looked around the sanctuary, trying to gauge the reactions of her friends. They looked shocked. Confused. Maybe she had heard correctly.
She returned her eyes to her pastor, but he was expressionless. “I’m sorry about this, ladies,” he said. But he didn’t sound sorry. He sounded ready for retirement.
Hot tears filled her eyes, and she let them spill down her cheek. Her arms felt too heavy to reach for a tissue.
“Let’s stand for one more song together,” he said and opened his hymnal.
Esther glanced around again and then followed suit. What else was there to do? Have an emotional outburst? Stomp out of the church in protest? No. She would sing a song with her sisters. Apparently, for the last time.
“Number two thirty-three,” the pastor said, and the organist started to play. Instantly, Esther recognized the familiar notes, even before she saw the hymnal page.
She tried to sing past the lump in her throat, but she was singing a lie. It was not well with her soul. How could God do this? How could he rip her church away from her? This was all she had left! These were her friends. This was her one outing per week. This was her one source of comfort. This was what she looked forward to.
She thought of Russell, and the lump grew too big to sing around. She closed her mouth and silently wept. She’d married him in this sanctuary so many years ago. Their babies had been christened in this sanctuary. And then all their friends and family had said goodbye to Russell in this sanctuary. She looked at the light filtering through the stained-glass window. What would become of those windows? What would become of the building? She looked up at the rafters and breathed in the familiar scent of the place. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed. “Change this. Fix this. Make this better. Don’t let this happen to us.” She opened her eyes, but nothing had changed. She looked over at Vicky. Vicky wasn’t singing either. Vicky always sang. She’d been the star of the choir, back when they’d had a choir. Now she just stood there, leaning on the pew in front of her, looking shell-shocked. She hadn’t been married in this church, but her kids had grown up there too. How many Christmas plays and Easter musicals had Vicky and she sat through? How many angel and shepherd costumes had they sewn together?
Vicky caught her staring, and Esther smiled, trying to be encouraging. Vicky did not return the smile. Instead, she returned her eyes to the pastor, and Esther realized something. Vicky was angry. And it was contagious. Esther realized she was angry too: with the pastor, though there was probably nothing he could have done; with the diocese; and, she realized, with God. Her eyes returned to the rafters. Being mad at God made her feel guilty, but didn’t he deserve a little of her wrath right now? How could he do this to her? She’d served him since she was a child, and now, in her final years of life, he was going to take away her entire support system?
Her children lived halfway across the country. They were busy with their own lives, their own families. She didn’t want to be a burden for them. The church was supposed to take care of the widows, and this is what they decided? To throw her out into the street? Who would help her when she needed it? Who would check on her when she was ill? Who would notice when she was missing? Who would notice when she was gone? Where would her funeral be held?
The song ended, and the pastor gave a benediction. Immediately, he was swarmed. “What are we supposed to do?” Barbara asked.
He put a hand on her shoulder. “If I were you, I would find another church. St. Thomas is nice.”
“St. Thomas is not nice,” she snapped, and Esther bit back a laugh. “I don’t want another church. I want my church. Why didn’t they give us any warning? We could have stopped this—”
The pastor held up at hand. “Ladies, there are seven of you. That’s it. That is not enough to keep a church going. If you don’t want to try St. Thomas, I recommend Calvary.”
“Calvary?” Barbara cried. “In Belfast?” That was an hour away. None of them would be driving that far to attend church. None of them could afford to.
“That’s the closest church that is within our diocese,” he tried.
Vicky went after him then, asking what they could do to stop it.
Esther waited for that argument to play out and then asked, “What will happen to the building?”
“I’m sorry,” the pastor said, cupping a hand over his ear. “What did you say, Esther?”
She tried to speak up. “What will happen to this building?”
He shrugged. “Nothing, for now. It will be vacant.”
Chapter 2
Emma
“Dare you to knock on her door.” Isabelle elbowed Emma in the side hard enough to hurt, and cherry slushy dripped off the end of Isabelle’s straw and onto Emma’s toe.
Emma stopped walking and shook her foot, but the slushy was like glue. Gross red glue. “Yuck, Isabelle! You don’t need to whip your straw around spraying cherry syrup everywhere!”
The other three girls stopped walking too.
“Oh, relax, Miss Drama Queen,” Isabelle said. “It’s not like you can’t take a shower. And stop dodging the dare.”
“I’m not dodging the dare.” Emma started walking again.
Isabelle didn’t follow. She just stood there in the street, holding her stupid slushy in one hand and chewing on her straw. “Oh, you’re not, are you?”
Emma didn’t turn around.
“Prove it.”
Finally, Emma turned and looked at her friends. “Don’t be stupid. That’s a stupid dare, and I’m not doing it. You’re all acting like little kids.” She turned away and started walking again.
“Chicken!” Natalie called after her.
Why were her friends siding with Isabelle again? This was so stupid. She didn’t know what to do. She certainly wasn’t going to go knock on Mrs. Patterson’s door, no matter what. That would be embarrassing, not to mention kind of mean to Mrs. Patterson. But neither did Emma want to walk around town alone. That gave her the creeps, and someone was sure to tell her dad, and she would get in trouble. But going home was her last choice. Both of her parents were always exhausted after church, and they were probably napping or watching separate televisions—either way, they’d want her to be quiet so they could “rest.”
She hated Sundays.
Trying to be firm, she continued walking, not knowing where she was going. Eventually, her friends gave up and caught up to her. Breath rushed out of her.
“I don’t know why you don’t want to do it,” Isabelle said.
“I don’t know why you want me to,” Emma fired back.
“Because it would be hilarious,” Raven chimed in.
“No, it wouldn’t be. Where are we going, anyway? Let’s go the boat landing.”
“Okay, let’s,” Isabelle said, and skipped ahead. Then she turned to face them. “Why are you so scared of your neighbor?”
“I’m not scared of her,” Emma said, though this wasn’t entirely true. “She’s a sad old lady. I don’t want to make her sadder by messing with her.”
“Have you ever seen her?” Natalie asked.
No, she hadn’t, but she didn’t want to tell them that and deepen the intrigue.
“I wonder what she looks like,” Isabelle said. “Maybe she’s a hunchback or something. I don’t know anyone who has seen her. You should knock on the door, and then when she comes to answer it, take her picture and then run away. Then you could show everyone what she looks like!”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Your ideas keep getting worse.”
“No, they keep getting better.”
“I’ll do it!” Raven suddenly declared.
Emma’s stomach rolled. She couldn’t have any part of this. Her father would kill her.
Isabelle and Natalie stopped walking. “You will?” Isabelle said slowly, emphasizing her doubt.
Emma was surprised too. Raven was usually the last person to accept a dare.
“All I have to do is take her picture and run away, right?” She was already having second thoughts.
Isabelle put her arm around her. “Right. We’ll be waiting in Emma’s backyard. Run right for us, and then we’ll all run to the boat landing.”
“Okay,” Raven said tentatively. She started to slide the phone out of her back pocket.
“Here,” Isabelle said, shoving her phone in her face, “use mine.”
“Why?”
“It’s better.”
Though Isabelle’s phone was better, or at least miles more expensive, Emma knew that wasn’t why she was pushing it into Raven’s face. They had to use her phone so that she could show the picture to anyone and everyone who would look, and then take credit for the prank. Emma didn’t want to be friends with Isabelle anymore, but it was so hard to avoid her. Isabelle was everywhere—even in church.
They started walking toward Mrs. Patterson’s house, and Emma tried to think of a way to stop this. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” She hated how wobbly and weak her voice sounded.
“Obviously,” Isabelle said, “and obviously you are wrong, and it is a very good idea.”
Though it was the middle of the afternoon and the sun was high and bright in the sky, Isabelle made a show of slinking along the side of Emma’s house to reach the backyard. Anyone driving by could see them. Mrs. Patterson, if she looked out her window, could see them. Isabelle went behind the grapevines and then pulled Natalie in with her. “Come on, hide!”
Raven ducked behind the vines too.
“Not you.” Isabelle pushed her back out. “You’ve got a job to do.”
Raven didn’t move.
“You don’t have to do this,” Emma said.
“Yes, she does. Stop trying to take away her fun. You’re just jealous because you didn’t dare to do it.”
Emma rolled her eyes.
“What does she look like?” Raven asked. “Is she scary?” Raven was the youngest girl in their class and acted it.
“No, she’s just an old woman, and we really shouldn’t be picking on her.”
Isabelle elbowed Emma again, even harder this time. Then she looked at Raven. “We don’t know what she looks like. That’s the whole point. Now go, or we give up on you.”
Chapter 3
Tonya
From the upstairs bathroom window, Tonya had a clear view of her daughter’s friend tiptoeing across their lawn. Tonya scanned the area. Why was Raven tiptoeing? She was in plain sight, yet she was acting as if she was trying to sneak up on someone. But who? There was no one there. And where were the other girls? She wasn’t sure, hadn’t been paying much attention, but she thought Raven had been with Emma when Emma had left the house with a gaggle of neighborhood girls.
She slid the window open to holler to Raven, but then she wondered if it was worth the energy of interfering. Maybe she should just let Raven be weird. Maybe they were playing a harmless game.
Then she heard a giggle from below. She couldn’t see anyone else, but she recognized the giggle: Isabelle.
So this game, whatever it was, wasn’t harmless. She opened her mouth to holler, but then thought better of it. Maybe she should catch them in the act. If she continued watching, and witnessed something wayward, she would finally have something to take to Isabelle’s mother, the bane of her existence. Or one of the banes of her existence.
Isabelle was the only child of a perfect little family who lived in a perfect giant house and did perfect things. Her father had a perfect job. They drove a perfect SUV. They wore perfect clothes. They were perfect, perfect, perfect.
Isabelle was not perfect. She was the church brat, but somehow, Tonya was the only one who seemed to know it. Isabelle was always causing trouble, but never getting caught. She was a bully half the time and sticky sweet the other half. She would call Emma fat one Sunday and then invite her to an expensive water park the next. Tonya had tried to talk to Isabelle’s mother about it, but she’d gotten nowhere. No way would Isabelle steal all the fish crackers out of the church nursery, or turn all the sound room dials up to max, or fling glow-in-the-dark paint all over the sanctuary carpet.
Too late, Tonya realized that Raven was approaching Mrs. Patterson’s door. She hollered Raven’s name, but the girl didn’t hear her. Or at least she pretended she didn’t. Tonya flew out of the bathroom, down the stairs, down the hallway, past her husband on the couch, and out the back door to find the other three girls crouching behind the grapevine. She ignored them for the moment and headed toward Raven, who was already knocking on Mrs. Patterson’s door.
“Raven, stop!”
Raven heard her this time and looked at her. Then she looked past her, toward the grapevine.
The door opened.
“Come here, Raven,” she said, trying to use her gentle pastor’s wife voice. The fake one.
Raven looked at the open doorway, presumably at Mrs. Patterson, but Tonya couldn’t see her. Then Raven looked at the grapevine. Then, much to Tonya’s horror, she picked up her phone, flashed it in Mrs. Patterson’s face, and took off running toward Tonya. Tonya hurried to Mrs. Patterson’s door, but by the time she got there, it was closed again. She knocked, not expecting an answer. When they’d first moved in, she had tried to visit multiple times, to bring her a pie, to invite her to church, to sell Girl Scout cookies, and that door never opened.
It didn’t open now either. Exhausted, Tonya leaned on the rickety porch railing. “Mrs. Patterson, I’m so sorry about that,” she called out. “That was rude and awful, but I want you to know that I will deal with it.” She paused. Was there anything else she could say? “You have a nice day,” she said and then wished she hadn’t. How could anyone who lived alone and never left their house have a nice day? She couldn’t believe the woman had even opened the door for Raven.
Tonya backed away from the door and turned toward the grapevine. Of course, the girls weren’t there anymore. She went back into the house, grabbed her car keys, and got behind the wheel. Emma was going to be grounded for a very long time.
Chapter 4
Esther
Esther was too upset to sit still. She’d tried to knit and watch television, but she couldn’t stop thinking about her church, and the more she thought about it, the harder it was to sit still. She thought about eating something. She still hadn’t had lunch. But she had no appetite. She decided to go for a walk. This was only a little unusual for her. Though her doctor had told her to walk every day, she managed it once a month. But today was a perfect, beautiful day, and so she decided a walk might calm her mind a bit.
She put on her sneakers and headed outside. She lived in an apartment building specifically for people like her. Mostly widows with a few spinsters mixed in. All on a fixed income. All lonely.
The sunshine felt good on her face and arms, and she breathed in the fresh air. On most July days, she wouldn’t want to be outside walking in the summer heat, but today the temperature was perfect, and a breeze blew in off the sea.
Her building sat on a street corner, and she turned away from Main Street and headed down the smaller side street, Providence Ave. It was a small town, but Main Street was still too loud. It had been even worse back when the paper mill was open. Russell had worked at that paper mill for thirty-seven years. Then they’d shut it down, giving him about as much advanced notice as she’d had from the church. It wasn’t a fond memory. They’d been scared. The economy hadn’t been good, and he hadn’t known how to do anything else. He only knew how to make paper.
But they’d made it work. He’d found a job at a lumberyard. He made a lot less there, but it was all right, as they didn’t have any debt, and they didn’t have expensive hobbies. She’d always loved the way he smelled when he came home from the lumberyard. Like pine.
She realized she was passing by an old church. She stopped and looked up at it. She’d driven and walked by this church countless times, but this was the first time in ages that she’d really looked at it. She tried to remember the last time it had been open. Sometime in the seventies, she thought. She shook her head. What a shame. A crooked for sale sign hung in the yard. That had been there for as long as she could remember. No one wanted to buy an old church. She stepped onto the lawn, which was long overdue for a mow. The place had been beautiful once. It was a wreck now. The stained-glass windows had been removed, and the holes boarded up. Paint flaked off the walls. The basement windows were broken, and someone had spray-painted graffiti on the walls. This looked particularly awful because there was no graffiti in Carver Harbor. Ever.
Was this what was going to happen to her church? Were they going to slap a for sale sign in front of it and then let it go to ruin? She didn’t know if she could take that.
She heard a noise and looked up. A bird flew out from under the rafter. Good, at least someone was still being blessed by the place. She smiled.
A small group of giggling girls interrupted her reverie. She turned to watch them run down the street. They were beautiful. So young, so carefree, so energetic. She didn’t know what they were laughing at, but something had sure struck them funny—or at least three of them were laughing. One of them looked sad and only seemed to be trying to catch up.
Esther smiled at the sad girl, but none of the girls saw her.
Then the loudest one flung a plastic slushy cup over her right shoulder, not even looking to see where it would land. It flew within feet of Esther and landed in the tall grass of the church’s lawn.
Esther sighed. She went and picked the cup and the sticky straw out of the long grass. She gave the old church one last look. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” she said quietly, “and to your people.” Then she headed back to her apartment building so she could throw away the litter.
She’d been wrong. Her walk hadn’t made her feel any better.
Chapter 5
Emma
Emma heard crunching gravel and knew it was her mother before she even saw the car. And though she knew she was about to get it, part of her was relieved that her mother was coming for her. She couldn’t wait to climb into the safety of that old car.
“Uh-oh,” Isabelle sang, “someone’s in trouble.” She didn’t even try to hide her delight.
Raven looked scared.
“Look!” Isabelle held up her phone.
It took Emma a second to realize what she was looking at. Then, when she did, she felt sick.
Isabelle had posted the picture on social media.
“You didn’t say you were going to do that!” Raven cried.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t, either.” Looking down at her phone, Isabelle gave a smug smile that made Emma hate her. Really hate her.
“Emma! Get in the car!”
Emma headed that way before her mother finished her sentence. But even though Emma was obeying, her mother left the car and headed toward her—and then right past her.
Oh no. Please don’t, Mom. They’re not your kids.
“I am so disappointed in you young ladies. Why would you do something like that?”
Emma climbed into the car, slammed the door, and put her head in her hands.
“I will be discussing this with each of your parents.”
Isabelle snickered, and Emma went from being embarrassed by her mother to worried about her. Her mother was sensitive and didn’t have an easy life. She didn’t need to be disrespected by the likes of Isabelle.
Emma started to climb back out of the car, but her mother had already turned and headed her way, her face twisted up in fury. Emma felt sick to her stomach.
Her mom slammed the door so hard that the whole car shook.
“I’m sorry,” Emma said quietly.
“I’m sure you are.” Her mother didn’t believe her. She threw the car in drive and then peeled out, spraying gravel behind them. Her fingers clutched the steering wheel in a death grip.
“I tried to stop it.”
“Well, you didn’t try hard enough.” There was a hardness in her mother’s voice that she wasn’t used to.
Emma felt horrible about what Isabelle and Raven—mostly Isabelle—had done, but was her mother overreacting? She didn’t know what her mother wanted her to say, so she stayed quiet for a minute. Then she thought of something she wanted said. “Thank you for coming to get me.”
Her mother’s fingers relaxed their grip on the wheel, and she took a deep breath. “You know I love you, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I will love you no matter what. You can’t do anything to change that, ever. But I am really disappointed in you right now. I can’t believe my daughter did something so cruel.”
Yes, she was overreacting, and she didn’t even know about the social media piece. “I’m sorry.” A thought occurred to her. “Is this because I’m a pastor’s kid?”
Her mother answered with a guttural, humorless laugh. “No, not at all.”
This was a small comfort.
“I want you to grow up to be the strong, kind woman that I know you are. I know there will be missteps. I’m not asking you to be perfect, but I still have high expectations of you because I know you.” She took a shaky breath. “I wish that being a pastor’s kid didn’t offer additional pressure. I’m sorry that it does, but that pressure will never come from me.”
Emma had heard variations of this sentiment before, but it still felt good to hear it again. “Isabelle tried to make me do it, and I said no. But then she told Raven, and Raven didn’t have the guts to say no. I didn’t know how to stop it, Mom. I really didn’t. If I could have thought of a way, I would have.”
Her mom nodded. “I think you should go apologize to Mrs. Patterson. Invite Raven and Natalie to come along.”
Emma’s stomach rolled.
“You can invite Isabelle too, of course, but I’ll eat my hat if she agrees.”
“Mom, I don’t think I can.”
“Yes, you can. I’ll go with you. And we should probably bring her a treat.”
Of course. Her mother always tried to fix things with cookies and pie.
Chapter 6
Esther
Esther was disappointed with herself for how upset she was. Her mind tried to tell her that she was overreacting, but her emotions disagreed. She tried to watch television, but she kept right on crying. Her church. Her beloved church was gone. Her home was gone.
She made a TV dinner and ate it on the couch. When she’d finished, she wasn’t quite full, so she made another.
Then, her stomach full and her heart broken, she lay down on the couch. Her eyelids grew heavy, and, still listening to the rerun, she drifted off to sleep.
She was in church, but it wasn’t her church. When she realized that Russell was sitting beside her, fresh tears sprang to her eyes. She looked up at him and gasped—he looked thirty-five! He looked down at her and smiled, and then patted her knee. She looked down at his hand and saw her own legs. They were young too! She wrapped her hand around his and relished the warmth of it. Then she looked around the sanctuary. She didn’t recognize it. They must be visiting a different church. But wow, wasn’t it full! A large family sat in the pew in front of them. The father had his arm around the mother, and four little girls sat beside them. Only the one on the end fidgeted. The little girl caught Esther staring and gave her a small smile. Looking in this direction, Esther realized her own children were in the pew beside her. As she gazed at them, a baby behind her began to wail. The sound of it made her heart leap. When was the last time she’d heard a baby in church? She turned to look at the infant, who had been handed off to a grandmother now, who gently rocked her arms from side to side. The baby stopped crying and started trying to grab the feathers that sprang out of her grandmother’s hatband. Hiding her laughter, Esther turned front again as a candy wrapper rustled nearby and a mother shushed her child. Somewhere, someone snored softly. Esther had forgotten how beautiful a full sanctuary could sound.
The service ended, and Russell stood, still holding her hand. He let several people pass and then stepped into the aisle. He paused and motioned for her to go first. She did, but she slid her left hand into his before letting go with her right. She didn’t want to let go of his hand. She didn’t want to let go of him. She didn’t trust him not to disappear again.
After checking to make sure her children were following, she led them outside into the brilliant sunshine and the smell of freshly cut grass and instantly she recognized the street. It was the street she lived on now, but it looked different. Some of the houses were different colors, and one of them was new altogether—or was it old?
The cars were old, but they looked shiny and new. She gasped and looked up at Russ. They were in a different time! How was this possible? Was she dreaming? If so, she didn’t want to wake up. He looked so handsome.
Her phone rang, and she tried to ignore it. She knew then that this was a dream, and she didn’t want to leave it. Looking at Russ’s face, she saw the church behind him. It was the old one, the one that had been abandoned. But it didn’t look old or abandoned now. It was grand with fresh paint and beautiful stained-glass windows still in their place. She gazed at it as her phone rang again.
“Go ahead,” Russ said. He bent and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Answer the phone. It’s important.” And then he was gone.
It was all gone.
She groped for the phone as she opened her eyes. “Hello?” she said groggily. Her pillow was wet with her tears. She wiped at her eyes. “Hello?” she said again.
“Did I wake you?” Vicky asked.
Esther considered lying, but why bother? There was no shame in napping on a Sunday afternoon.
“It’s all right. I usually nap on Sundays too, but I’m too upset to nap today. I’m mad as a hornet. I’ve been on the phone all afternoon, and I can’t make heads or tails of this. I don’t know what we’re going to do!”
“I think we’re all going to have to find another church.” She knew she sounded sulky, but she didn’t care.
“So that’s it? You’re just going to give up?”
“We could start our own church.” The idea hadn’t occurred to her until she spoke it aloud, but now her whole body broke out in goosebumps, and an unexpected hope settled over her.
Vicky guffawed. “Our own church? A bunch of old broads? I don’t think so.”
Esther sank back into her couch. “I’m not sure it would be that hard—”
“Hard? They’re not going to let us use that building! They just told me they’re going to sell it!”
“We don’t need that building—”
“What? Are we going to meet in your apartment? Maybe three of us could fit in there! And you can’t meet here—you’ll freeze to death!”
Esther rolled her eyes. No one would freeze to death in the summer, but Vicky rattled around in an old farmhouse that was practically falling down around her. It took a lot of wood to keep it warm in the winters, and Vicky was a cheapskate.
“No, we’ll meet in a church. Let me make some calls.”
“Make some calls? Who are you going to call?”
“I’ll talk to you soon. Bye—”
“Wait!”
Esther paused.
Vicky let out a long breath. “Look, I don’t want to join another church, and isn’t starting our own church essentially the same thing?”
“Not at all,” Esther said quickly.
“Why not?”
“We will never agree on which church to join.” She’d known these women for decades. They couldn’t even agree on a curtain color. “We find a new church, we scatter. We start a new church, we stay together.”
Chapter 7
Emma
Sick to her stomach, Emma rested the still-hot wild berry pie on Mrs. Patterson’s porch railing so she could knock on the door. She’d never been this close to the house, and she felt as if she were violating her privacy. She picked the pie up again, wishing it didn’t smell so good. She hoped Mrs. Patterson wouldn’t answer. She was relieved that both Raven and Natalie had declined her invitation to participate in this forced apology.
They waited for an eternity.
Her mother reached over her shoulder and knocked on the door, which annoyed Emma immensely. What, her knock hadn’t been good enough? Her mother had a superior knock?
“Mrs. Patterson?” her mother called out in her fake, singsong church voice. “We don’t want to bother you, but my daughter would like to apologize.”
They heard a scraping sound from inside, and Emma’s stomach flipped. Was the woman actually going to answer the door?
No. Apparently, she wasn’t.
Emma shifted her weight to her other foot. In her peripheral vision, she saw a curtain flick. She looked in that direction, but saw only curtain. “I don’t think she’s coming.”
